


Best Worst Pie

by shiphitsthefan



Series: Necessities [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Season/Series 09, BDSM, Castiel in the Bunker, Cock Warming, Come Eating, Comeplay, Dean's Birthday, Dom Castiel, Hand Feeding, Human Castiel, Kneeling, M/M, Masturbation, Men of Letters Bunker, Panty Kink, Praise Kink, Punishment, Sub Dean, Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Pie, crawling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:24:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5809951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiphitsthefan/pseuds/shiphitsthefan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is hand-feeding him bites of pie, which, under any other circumstance, Dean would be more than okay with. He loves it when Castiel indulges him, loves licking the remnants of bites from Castiel’s fingers while he strokes his hair and tells him how good he is. Dean may not love the slight softness to his stomach that’s developing from it, but he stays in good shape otherwise, so he doesn’t worry.</p><p>This pie, however, is not worth the calories. Not a bit. He has no idea where Cas got it from, but it needs to be returned to sender with haste.</p><p>* * *</p><p>It’s Dean’s birthday, and Cas wants it to be perfect. If only Dean was more tactful with his complaints.</p><p>Falls between <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4180185">Under Honor; Honor-Bound; Until the Stars</a> and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3494357">All You Need</a>, but can easily be read as a stand-alone fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Worst Pie

**Author's Note:**

> [defiantchic](http://defiantchic.tumblr.com/) gave me the following three word prompt: "mine, yours, ours". You've been waiting patiently for a very long time for this fic, my friend. I hope it meets expectations.
> 
> A very happy 37th birthday to our very own Dean Winchester! He may not be 37 in this particular universe, but we can celebrate just the same, and I can think of no better way than by writing and/or reading smut. Sounds like a party to me, anyway.
> 
> [betty days](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sadrobots/pseuds/betty%20days) beta'd this. You shouldn't even be surprised at this point. I make her read all of my stuff. (Well, I mean, I ask nicely, but still.) She's a very lovely hooman bean. <3
> 
> Please do not repost/copy/duplicate this work to other sites. That's called theft.
> 
> Warning for spanking; none occurs in the fic, but it is discussed.

The bunker has been empty since early morning. Charlie had brought over her Death Star waffle iron and made breakfast before herding Sam and Kevin out the door and into her car—

“I’ll have them back before curfew,” she promised.

“Please don’t have sex in the war room,” Kevin begged.

“Never ask for miracles on Dean’s birthday,” Sam reminded him.

“Besides,” Cas said helpfully, “we’ve already done that.”

—But they haven’t been in the war room once today, and have no intention of doing so for the next few days they have alone together. The only real plan is kinky sex and lots of it, which is honestly the second best plan Dean thinks they’ve ever come up with, the first being, of course, Spanking Day.

Dean is certainly looking forward to a repeat of that, but that’s the furthest thing on his mind right now as he tries not to fidget. He isn’t aroused, though kneeling on a pillow at Castiel’s feet typically does the trick all on its own. Castiel is hand-feeding him bites of pie, which, under any other circumstance, Dean would be more than okay with. He loves it when Castiel indulges him, loves licking the remnants of bites from Castiel’s fingers while he strokes his hair and tells him how good he is. Dean may not love the slight softness to his stomach that’s developing from it, but he stays in good shape otherwise, so he doesn’t worry.

This pie, however, is not worth the calories. Not a bit. He has no idea where Cas got it from, but it needs to be returned to sender with haste.

“Lawrence,” Dean says with a sigh, reluctantly yellowing out of the scene.

Cas’ hand stills immediately. “What’s wrong, Dean? Are you alright?”

“It’s nothing serious,” Dean reassures him, moving to lean against Cas’ pajama-clad legs while he stretches his own out from underneath himself. “I just…”

“What?”

“The pie.”

Cas starts absentmindedly rubbing at Dean’s neck, as he typically does for reassurance whenever Dean yellows out. His touch is grounding, but Dean would honestly prefer to move on to aftercare and the nearest toothbrush.

“Is there…” Cas inhales audibly, probably sniffing the untouched bite in his hand. “Is something wrong with it?”

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“It’s...that bad?”

“It tastes sour,” Dean begins. “There’s bits of uncooked flour in the crust. The whole thing is just...I dunno, soppy. It’s disgusting. Gross. Whoever you bought this from seriously has no business making pie.”

“Oh,” says Cas in a very small voice.

And that’s when it occurs to Dean that Cas might not have bought the pie after all.

“Shit. You made that didn’t you?”

“I apologize for its inedibility, Dean.”

Dean groans and covers his face with his hands. “I am such an asshole.”

“I thought it was okay. I…” Cas sighs before continuing. “I didn’t taste it. I wanted you to have the first piece.”

“That’s really sweet of you, Cas,” Dean tells him, because it is. His Dom is sweet, and he’s a terrible, terrible person.

“Unlike the pie.”

Dean winces. “Yeah. It...well. Yeah.” He picks at the lace edge of his panties. These had been a gift from Cas, too, the first pair he’s ever owned that wasn’t made with feminine curves in mind. They actually  _ fit, _ not pinching in the slightest, all soft and rose-colored and sheer. They make him feel beautiful, and here he is, making Cas feel like a fuck up over a stupid piece of pecan pie.

“I’m sorry I told you your pie sucks,” Dean tells him quietly.

“I’m sorry I fed you inferior pie,” Cas says.

“It’s not a big deal, Cas. I don’t exactly feel like I should be rewarded right now.”

“I’m not going to punish you for saying my pie is ‘soppy’.”

Dean licks his lips, then cranes his head back into Cas’ lap to look up at him. “You could, you know.”

“We’ve been over this, Dean. Spanking isn’t a punishment to you.”

“What if I promise to feel punished?” Dean says with a grin. “Besides, you like having me over your knee.”

“I suppose you could be reprimanded for rudeness,” Cas concedes. “Regardless of whether or not you knew I made it, your action was thoughtless. You could have simply said you didn’t like the pie. I didn’t require detail.”

Dean blinks. He hadn’t considered that.

“Well,” says Cas, tapping Dean on the shoulder and indicating for him to get up, “I suppose that if you’re so eager for it, then I’ll have to correct you. It is your birthday, after all. Can’t have you not getting exactly what you wanted.”

And okay, Dean’s starting to get aroused now. He stands up and clasps his hands behind his back, looking at Castiel expectantly. Castiel links arms with Dean and walks him over to stand in front of the dart board. He releases Dean long enough to pull the board off the wall and set it to the side.

“Wait here,” he says as he lightly pushes Dean’s head forward until his nose taps against the now empty spot on the wall. “If you’re good, I might spank you later.”

“I’ll be good,” Dean tells him, though his neck is arched at a slightly uncomfortable angle. Castiel runs his hands up and down Dean’s sides, and now he’s trying not to fidget for an entirely different reason. “I won’t move.”

“Oh, sweet boy, you misunderstand,” Castiel says with a chuckle, all warm honey and rough sound. “You’re going to move exactly as I tell you to.”

“Sir?”

Castiel’s hands settle on Dean’s hips, and he pushes them forward against the wall. Dean swallows a quiet sound of surprise as he cock makes contact, shifting in his panties. Castiel pulls him back, only to press him back into the wall again.

“Stay,” commands Castiel. Dean hears him take a step back to survey. Castiel crouches down behind him and uses his hands to pull Dean’s legs further apart, nudging and adjusting until he’s arranged just so. “If you would rock back and then forward again. Only once.”

Dean does, and fuck but that friction is  _ divine. _ The silk glides over his cock, and the wall doesn’t yield.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean manages after an embarrassed swallow, because he knows what Castiel wants him to do.

“Well. Keep to it, then.”

The couch squeaks behind Dean as Castiel plops down. It protests further as he wriggles out of his flannel sleep pants and tosses them over next to Dean. He listens to Castiel spit into his own hand, couldn’t possibly miss the content hum as he takes his cock and begins to stroke.

Dean’s already disappointed him once today. If Cas wants a show, then he’ll certainly put one on.

So he flexes his fingers, tightens his grip, and begins to hump the wall.

It’s an absurd feeling, had felt impossibly good at first, but the slow pace Castiel has set becomes less and less satisfying. Dean’s still aroused, yes, still leaking precum into his panties, still moaning quietly, impact after gentle impact. The longer he goes, though, the more time he has to think about what he’s doing.

Which is masturbating. With a wall.

He realizes now that there is literally no way this is going to get him off. Not with this rhythm, not with this method. Dean is standing here, repeatedly rubbing his dick against a wall for literally no reason whatsoever. He can feel his cheeks start to burn, and his muscles ache from the odd position he’s holding himself in, and he almost wishes he’d sucked it up and eaten the fucking pie—

Castiel gasps behind him as he comes, and Dean’s so hard he could sob just from hearing him get off. He wants to come he wants to come he wants to—

“Come here, boy.”

And Dean turns around so quickly he nearly loses his balance and topples over. He glances at Castiel’s outstretched hand, sees it shiny with his cum, bites his lip to restrain the terribly needy sound that wants to escape his throat as he takes a step forward—

“On your hands and knees.”

Dean stands immobile, a bit shocked. Crawling had been on his “maybe” list, because he hadn’t ever seen the appeal.

Now, though...right now, he can’t imagine going to Castiel any other way.

He unclasps his hands as he lowers himself to the floor. Dean wants to keep his eyes down, would rather study the tile than look at his Dom, but he also desperately needs Castiel’s approval. He makes his first tentative move forward, ignoring the slight protest from his knee as he shifts his weight.

“Good,” Castiel murmurs, and beckons him on.

It’s only a handful of feet from the wall to the couch, but it seems like miles. As Dean moves, so do his panties, dragging back and forth across his cock. He still feels slightly fuzzy-headed from humping the wall, and his arousal feels far off, as well, unreal, not his own. By the time he makes it to Castiel, his limbs are growing heavy as his brain settles into a lull.

Castiel holds out his cum-covered fingers expectantly, and Dean doesn’t hesitate to take them into his mouth one at a time, laving between each with care, catching every drop.

“I suppose this is more to your liking,” Castiel muses off in the distance.

Dean only hums contentedly, the throbbing of his cock momentarily forgotten. When Castiel grasps the back of Dean’s head and moves him forward to continue cleaning him, though, he gasps, a tiny plea of an aroused noise that hardly registers as his. But Castiel says nothing, merely guides Dean’s mouth onto his softened dick.

Castiel doesn’t release him, even after Dean’s finished licking up the mess. He holds him there, and so Dean holds him, even as his jaw begins to ache and spit runs down his chin. Dean feels suspended, out of time, somewhat inhuman here with his face buried between Castiel’s legs.

“Do you want to come?” asks Castiel.

Dean isn’t exactly sure, which surprises him, because it’s all he’d wanted back on the other side of the room.

Castiel feels his hesitation and asks, “Do you want me to decide?”

And yes, yes, that sounds much better, so Dean nods as much as a good cock warmer’s able to.

Castiel’s foot brushes teasingly up and down the front of Dean’s panties, only the slightest of touches. Dean is too far gone to be embarrassed anymore, which is for the best, since it only takes a few strokes of Castiel’s toes before he comes all over himself, whimpering around Castiel’s dick, shuddering helplessly in his hands.

He’s marginally aware of Cas pulling him out of the floor and into his lap. Cas props his head onto the arm of the couch while he takes off his shirt before peeling Dean’s panties off of him. He wipes Dean clean with the shirt, and makes to wad both garments up and toss them across the room to join his pants.

“Panties,” Dean mumbles, patting at Cas’ arm.

“What about them?”

“Wan’ ‘em back.”

“For what purpose?”

Dean must be high, because he hears himself admit that, “Wanna put ‘em in my mouth.”

Castiel chuckles. “My cum wasn’t enough to satisfy you? You want yours, too? What a greedy little thing you are.”

Dean whines petulantly, and Cas smiles widely as he rubs the cum-soaked fabric against Dean’s lips until he opens his mouth. He sucks on his underwear as he comes down, Cas all around him, rubbing his arms and legs, leaning down to pepper kisses on his face.

“Was nice,” he manages to say.

“At least better than my pie.”

“Mmhmm. Much better.”

“We’ll have to go make another one together,” offers Cas. “Your baking is far superior to mine, so I imagine your pie will actually...well. Taste like one.”

“I think we should call it  _ our pie!” _

Cas sighs with his entire body. “Curse your sudden but inevitable  _ Firefly _ reference.”

“Charlie’s a terrible influence.”

“Indeed,” Cas agrees. “Her birthday presents are almost worse than mine.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Dean tells him as he curls in closer. “That’s hands-down the best worst pie I’ve ever had.”

**Author's Note:**

> The accompanying photoset for this story can be found [here](http://shiphitsthefan.tumblr.com/post/137988859629/best-worst-pie-by-shiphitsthefan-domcastiel). If you liked this story, I would greatly appreciate your reblogging it.
> 
> You can find me on my [tumblr](http://shiphitsthefan.tumblr.com/). I also chirp occasionally witty things on [twitter](https://twitter.com/shiphitsthefan).
> 
> Kudos and comments validate my existence. <3


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